The Awakening Aidan - By Abby Niles Page 0,47

curling against the wall as she moaned through her orgasm. He followed quickly, a guttural groan warming her skin as he stiffened behind her. One, two, three more slow thrusts and his movements stilled. Aidan nuzzled against her neck, lightly kissing and nipping the skin. “Hmm. Now this is a meal I can wake up to every morning.”

She leaned back against him, tilting her head a bit more to the side. “You’re going to make it to where I can’t walk, you know.”

He tweaked her nipple, his other hand exploring the naked skin of her stomach. “A little sore?”

“Deliciously so.”

Another growl came from him before he withdrew and smacked her ass. “Sounds like you need some recoup time. Go get your bathing suit on. We’ll go down to the beach.”

“You mean birthday suit?”

His fingers dug into her hips as he rocked against her. “Unless you do indeed want to get to where you can’t move, go put some clothes on.”

Sending him a pout over her shoulder, she hurried to their bedroom.

Their bedroom.

An automatic thought. A dangerous thought. It wasn’t their bedroom. It was simply the room they were sharing until they left, one of the many places they’d fuck over the next two days. Nothing more.

She shouldn’t have to remind herself that, and it scared her that she did.

Aidan was simply a sex toy, a wonderfully arousing, multiple-orgasm sex toy.

After digging through the suitcases, she found her black bikini with white polka dots and pink trim, then slipped it on. With the tiny strings that held the material together at her hips, the suit left little to the imagination. Jaylin smiled. This would definitely keep things on the sex playing fields. One tug and the suit would fall right off.

Yummy.

She grabbed her makeup bag and found two ponytail holders. After she put her hair in low pigtails that made the strands cascade down the front of her shoulders, she sashayed back into the kitchen, very aware of the way Aidan had stilled in pouring some liquor into a blender. The way he watched her, all predator-like, ready to jump, made her feel she had some control.

Stopping in the middle of the kitchen, she held her hands up and turned around, giving him a view from every angle. “You like?”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “I like. Very much.”

She gave him a saucy smile. “Good.”

As she sidled up next to him, she lifted her face. When he gave her lips a quick smack with his, she jerked back, shocked at what she’d done. She’d invited his kiss. Again, automatically. Like a couple. What in the world was happening to her?

He gave an affectionate tug on one of her pigtails, then handed her a picnic basket.

“I put some food in there, along with a blanket. There should be two chairs already set up on the beach. Go on without me. I’ll be down in a few minutes. Need to get our drinks ready and throw on my swim trunks.”

She didn’t argue, needing to get away from him and collect herself. Here she’d been so worried about Aidan losing control, and it seemed that she was the one doing the losing instead. The really frightening part was that she didn’t realize what she was doing until after she’d done it. What kind of signals was she sending Aidan?

It couldn’t be good. Was he silently tallying these small victories, believing she wouldn’t be able to leave him when they returned home?

After setting the picnic basket down, she sank into the mesh material of the beach chair. Would she be able to leave him? She enjoyed being in his arms so much, enjoyed just being with him. Somehow Aidan made her forget her troubles—forget the struggles at home that were still very much there and waiting for her return.

A failing practice, a best friend who stayed by her side regardless of how broke she was because of Jaylin’s decisions, and a mother who sat at home waiting for death.

How could he make her forget all of those things? Especially the last one.

That could be her in a few years if she let her emotions control her.

Just last week she’d stopped by to see her mom. She was cleaning. The woman was always cleaning. Her mother had never been so OCD about her floors until Jaylin’s father died. In the beginning, even as a teen, she’d known it was a way for her mom to cope, a way to not think. But after twenty years, the loss